Because I Had To  …   Pickle
Pickle is a bit of a fun word. And to make things even more interesting, the word has several different meanings. For example, I can pickle something, like a pepper, which not only extends its consume-by date, but also adds a new flavor profile to the item.
I do not like beets, but if they are pickled, I will willingly eat some. But a better and more literal example is that of a cucumber. I love the taste of fresh cucumbers and often make them a star ingredient in my salad. Yet, when a cucumber is pickled, it becomes an actual pickle.  Ironically, I love a pickle even more than I love a cucumber. Pickles are certainly crunchier than a cucumber. Plus, they come in all shapes and sizes, making them a perfect accompaniment to any sandwich. Given this, it makes me wonder how the word pickle came to be associated with the notion of being in a difficult situation.
Some people consider that this meaning of pickle originated, somewhat, from Shakespeare in his reference to the drunkenness of a character. Others, however, feel that what may be more likely is that the process of pickling, for the cucumber, is simply like being… stuck. I mean, to be pickled, a cucumber must sit, for a long time, in vinegary brine. And the more things, such as spices and bits of vegetables, that are added to the brine, the more flavorful the pickling becomes. Ultimately, making pickling a messy, yet somewhat stagnant, process.
Recently, I ran into an unexpected travel change. The originally scheduled aircraft for my long-haul flight suffered a technical problem and a new aircraft was summoned to replace it. In the airline business, this is a rather common occurrence. What was a bit uncommon about the situation was that the new aircraft was a completely different model. It also had a completely different seating configuration resulting in a nearly total reshuffling of seats for all the passengers. Suddenly, my extra leg room seat on the window became a little legroom seat in the middle. To add insult to injury, the new plane was smaller than the old plane and so it was completely full. There was not a spare seat to be found. Many passengers were extra distraught because more than not just having their original seats, they were no longer sitting with, or even near, their travel companions. At least I was still sitting next to my husband, and he could, at least, stretch his (much longer) legs (a bit) into the aisle. I didn’t really relish the idea of being stuck between two people for more than eight (long) hours on a plane.  But there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I was (appropriately referenced), like a cucumber, in a bit of a pickle…
Brine. Brine.
Kathy Naumann, possessor of NATURALLY curly hair and the understanding that you can’t control everything!

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